Destiny
by wotan
Summary: Who is to share Harry's destiny with him?


Disclaimer : I'm not JKR and I don't own diddly.

Thanks to the Minx, once more, for spotting a surfeit of 'He's … the rest of the mistakes are down to me.

Destiny

It was late one Friday afternoon. Dumbledore sat in his office dealing with the minutiae of running Hogwarts. He went through the papers on his desk. Professor Snape wanted an increase in the Potions budget and compulsory detention for anybody seen glaring at a master. A note from Minerva told him she would be bringing Malfoy and Weasley to see him, for fighting. He looked at the clock - that would be in ten minutes time. A stern telling-off was required - one more onerous duty. Dear old Binns was arguing that History of Magic lessons be extended by half-an-hour, to allow adequate time for a proper explanation of the 1318 Overthrow of the Ogres. The House Elves were suggesting, most deferentially, that they hadn't worked hard enough this month and that they should punish themselves by sticking hot toasting forks in their arms. 

And the Ministry of Magic's report on their recent inspection of the kitchens had arrived - 'A degree of lumpiness was noted in the custard, consistent with insufficient agitation during its preparation. It is highly recommended that …'

Dumbledore carefully folded the report into a paper-aeroplane and sent it gliding around the room.

"Catch it Fawkes!"

The phoenix sprang from his perch and caught the plane in an instant.

__

'What do you want done with it Albus?' Fawkes didn't speak of course, but Dumbledore heard him clearly nonetheless.

"Fire."

The bird dropped the Ministry's carefully phrased report onto the glowing coals. It blazed briefly, throwing a little light into the room. Fawkes spread his scarlet wings to catch the heat.

"Some use after all" chuckled Dumbledore, as the phoenix returned to his perch. Then he fell silent and thoughtful for several minutes.

__

'What is troubling you?' asked Fawkes finally.

"Harry. And the girl."

__

'Ah yes, worrying times. They should be further along the path by now - they should be close to one another. Destiny demands it.' If a Phoenix could look worried, Fawkes did.

"I hoped Harry might take her to the Yule Ball - I arranged it for that specific purpose. Unfortunately another had already asked her" said Dumbledore. He placed his thin hands together in front of his lips and stared at the fire.

__

'How much longer do we have to get them to show an interest in each another?'

"Three years - almost" replied Dumbledore, still staring at the fire.

__

'Three years - why that is but an instant. We are surely doomed.'

"An instant to you and I Fawkes, but it is a long time to ones as young as they. All is not lost. Yet so much rests on them - if only I was allowed to tell them. It may be possible to encourage the girl. I suspect she will have to make the first move. Harry is very shy where girls are concerned."

__

'It is their destiny Albus. Surely they can see it?'

"They are children. Destiny is not always apparent to young eyes."

They fell silent once more. Dumbledore weighed possibilities in his mind. If only there was some hint of a spark between them. He looked up at a knock on the door.

"Come."

Professor McGonagall's head appeared around the door.

"Weasley and Malfoy, for fighting and use of magic in the corridors. Had you forgotten Headmaster?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily and nodded. "I'm afraid I had. What happened?"

"Malfoy insulted Potter in his absence. Weasley sprang to his defence and attacked Malfoy. Malfoy responded with punches of his own. Then wands were used."

"Let them stew for a few minutes more and then send them in."

McGonagall smiled at him and disappeared. Dumbledore flopped back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. What this time, he wondered? Quarrels in the corridor were a never-ending source of problems. For all their ineptness and dullness in lessons, some pupils managed to show a high degree of skill and creativity when it came to the aggressive use of magic. In spite of his mood, Dumbledore chuckled. He lay back in his chair, shut his eyes and pondered on possible suitable punishments.

A few minutes later there was a tap at the door. He opened his eyes. McGonagall marched the miscreants into his office. One of the offenders sported bright orange wriggling worms where his fingers should have been. The other … Dumbledore sat bolt upright, hope suddenly welling up inside him. Perhaps things were starting to work as destiny demanded … for the other was a very angry-looking red-haired girl.

T H E E N D


End file.
